


Devon Miles (yeehaw)

by John_Q_Sample



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Comfort, Devon Is Sad, Found Family Relationships, Gen, Hugs, post-Goliath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 06:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15406869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Q_Sample/pseuds/John_Q_Sample
Summary: Devon's been busy dealing with Garthe's death and helping Dr Bergstrom, but Michael wants to be sure he's alright.





	Devon Miles (yeehaw)

Michael hesitates before leaving Devon’s office. After seeing Dr Burgstrom off at the airport, it’s just been a dull day of paperwork. Garthe’s death—supposedly—is turning out to be more complex than it appeared, for the Foundation anyway. Glancing back, Michael sees Devon reading over some paper he has on his desk. It’s obvious he’s barely even paying attention to the words.

Michael closes the door and goes back inside.

“Devon, are you okay?”

Devon looks up suddenly, startled from his thoughts. “Whatever do you mean?” he manages.

“I  _mean_ the son of your closest friend held you hostage for over a week, and all you’ve been doing since then is  _work_.”

Devon smiles. “Well, there’s certainly a lot of work to do after this case.”

Michael steps forward and sits on the chair in front of the desk. “I know. I do. But are you sure you don’t need—I don’t know, a break or something?”

“You know I’m not one to take many vacations, Michael.”

“I’m aware of that. But that’s what’s worrying me here.”

Devon hesitates, then draws in a deep breath. “You don’t have anything to be worried about.” His voice breaks at the end of the sentence, betraying his lie.

“Okay, Devon.”

Devon sighs shakily and distracts himself by straightening out some of the papers on his desk. Michael watches with a raised eyebrow for a few seconds.

Then he says, “Come here.”

Devon looks up again.

Michael stands and walks over to Devon. “Come on, I’m giving you a hug.”

“What are you—”

Michael puts his arms around Devon and pats his back.

“I don’t know what that was all about,” Devon murmurs.

Michael sits on the windowsill behind the desk. Devon gives a stern look; the curtains are all wrinkled from Michael doing the same thing before. But he doesn’t move.

“Look, Devon, we’re all worried about you. Even Bonnie was telling me I should check on you. What happened while you were in that prison cell?”

“Nothing much happened to me,” Devon says. “It was April and Dr Burgstrom I was most worried about, you see. With Garthe’s plans...and the way he was treating her...”

“I think you’re changing the subject,” Michael says.

Devon frowns.

“I get you were worried about everyone else,” Michael says. “I was worried about everyone else. But, Devon—Devon, you’re basically my dad. I feel like you’re not as alright as you’re letting on. I don’t want you to—I don’t know. Be hurting all the time when we can help.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I can talk to you any time?”

Michael shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”

“Really, Michael. Thank you for your concern. And I do know that I can trust you with things like this. But...I’m not going to dwell on what happened.”

“You’re not going to ignore it either,” Michael points out.

“I’m not. I’m working through this in my own way, Michael.”

“Through work?”

“By going back to my normal life,” Devon corrects. “I have a sense of order here. Unlike what I had  _there_. This isn’t my first time in a hostage situation, you know. I’m still working through it with my therapist. You don’t have to be worried.”

“Well, I still am,” Michael says.

“Could that perhaps be a sign of you caring?”

Michael smiles. “Perhaps,” he says in a fake British accent.

“You’re butchering the way I talk, Michael.”

“And I thought I was doing it quite well,” Michael comments, failing miserably to catch onto the accent.

Devon barely laughs, but that’s enough for Michael.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Of course I am, Michael. A gentleman must carry on.”

“Right, Mr Proper English Gentleman.” Michael stands from the windowsill and does what he can to straighten out the curtains. “Just remember that we’re all—I don’t know, used to you here. You’re part of the family.”

“I know, Michael. I’ll be sure to tell you if something truly is wrong.”

Michael smiles and goes over to the door. He stops again and turns on his heel.

“One more thing,” Michael says. “April is inviting the both of us to dinner tonight. You up for it?”

“This was a roundabout way of an invitation, was it?”

“Come on, Devon.”

Devon looks at the neatly organized stack of paperwork, barely read. Then at Michael’s expectant face.

“Alright,” Devon says, standing to join him. “But I  _am_ coming in early to work tomorrow.”

“Of course you are.”


End file.
